Watching From the Trees…
I think its the squirrels. I think they’re trying to drive me mad.
Every day its another present, wrapped and left on the doorstep. Every day something different. Today, it’s a bottle of sauce. Yesterday it was a pint of milk. Always something different, but always something I need. Once, for Christmas, it was a winning lottery ticket worth £78.45. The numbers must mean something but I haven’t cracked it as yet, but I will.
They think I don’t see them, in the yard, sitting on the fence, watching me. Little beady eyes peering through the window, through the cracks in the newspaper I’ve put up there to stop them seeing. Just watching, and then making note in their treetop lairs with each other, I can picture them, tails twitching with excitement before stealing off to bring me something else, some other part of puzzle.
It has to be a puzzle. There has to be an answer. I try and try to work it out, I have given over the spare room to mapping the gifts, different colours of card to mark the days, different colours of pen to mark the months. I need to work it out.
Once, they left me a new set of Post-It notes. Pink ones, not the common Yellow Ones that office works bicker and fret over.
I thought I had it when I predicted that last Wednesday, they would leave me a packet of Pickled Onion Monster Munch. I can safely say that when I opened my door, and saw it there, bound with cheap golden ribbon, it was the happiest day of my life. I danced around the house, entranced by the prospect of understanding, and my victory over the Grey Rodents and their schemes. But alas! the following day I did not receive the expected Refill Box of Nescafe Gold Blend, but rather a DVD of The Magic Roundabout.
I am sure they heard me dancing, and changed their plans to throw me. I worry, in my darkest moments that there is no solution, but then what would be purpose of all this?
What would be the point?